


All Stripped Down

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst Dean Winchester, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Size Kink, Somnophilia, Weecest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Dean hasn't rubbed himself off on Sam before.  He's just never done it like this.<br/>(Sam is in ninth grade).</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Stripped Down

There's no rhyme or reason to when Dean does this. Sometimes it's "a day that ends in Y," sometimes it's just because he can.

Sleeping on his stomach isn't always the most comfortable position. Sam's hip bones dig into the crappy motel mattress, rough spun sheets scratching at his skin.

But that's nothing compared to the hardness that he knows will start pressing up against his back. Sam doesn't move when he feels the sheet being pulled off him, too afraid he'll break the spell.

_Just stay still, pretend to sleep._

Sam feels his skin getting hot and prickly as the cotton topsheet drags against his back. His boxers are worn so thin he may as well be naked as Dean settles down on the bed.

Sam can hear the shitty spring mattress squeaking under Dean's weight as he brings one knee down on the bed.

Dean's breathing heavy and he fumbles a little as he gets his other knee on the bed. That means he's probably a little drunk. Sam pushes his face into the pillow and tries not to moan when he thinks about it.

Dean isn't always drunk when he does this, but it's better when he is. He's bolder and sometimes he doesn't realize that he's talking to Sam.

_Please start saying stuff, Dean, come on._

Dean grumbles out something unintelligible and moves his knees in between Sam's legs. He brackets an elbow on either side of Sam's chest and leans forward, wriggles his hips side to side until Sam can feel the hot, hard line of his big brother's cock pressing right against his ass.

Sam tries to stay still and keep up the charade that he's asleep. Dean likes it better that way.

Dean lets out a long sigh and Sam can smell his breath, smell the whiskey and cigarettes Dean sneaks when Dad's away. It's just them tonight, and that makes Sam hopeful. Dean holds himself back less when Dad's not around.

Sam turns his face into the pillow and tries to cover all the sounds he wants to make. Dean rocks his hips forward and Sam can feel the hot drag of Dean's dick against him, huge and hard even through the two layers of underwear separating them.

Sam tries not to push back into it but he can't help it, it's like his hips move on their own as he humps himself back.

Dean huffs out a breath and circles his hips, fucking finally.

When Dean moves forward it's enough to move Sam with him and grind Sam's dick against the lumpy mattress. Sam stifles a way too high-pitched noise as the gritty friction of it shoots up his spine.

Dean's so much bigger than he is, big enough to cover Sam like a hot blanket as he drapes himself over him and grinds down against him. Dean's weight almost crushes him and he's so hot, hottest of all where his fat cock is sliding against the crack of Sam's skinny ass.

"Fuck,  _nnngh_ ," Dean mumbles out against him, sounding frustrated.

Sam can feel a little wet spot forming underneath himself as Dean rubs against him. Sam knows what that frustrated little grunt means and he feels his cock getting harder and leaking precome just thinking about it.

_Do it, Dean, come on, just do it._

Dean grunts out another frustrated curse before he pushes himself up onto his hands. Sam has to grit his teeth to keep himself from wriggling back at the loss of contact, but he controls himself because he knows what it means.

Sam barely breathes as he listens to what Dean's doing. Dean pushes himself up quickly, and Sam thinks he hears him whisper, "Fuck, Sammy," before feels the mattress tilt to the side as Dean comes up on one arm.

Sam's dick jumps a little underneath him when he hears the soft snap of elastic.

_God yes, fuck yes._

These are the best nights, when Dean pulls his boxers down and Sam can really feel it.

Sam tries to stay still but his dick is so hard it almost hurts, throbbing with his heartbeat every time he thinks about Dean's huge dick, bare against him.

Sam starts humping himself against the sheets.

Then Sam feels two fingers curve under the elastic of his boxers and he goes still. Dean doesn't usually do  _this_.

_Oh my god please please please._

He can hear Dean breathing, deep sighing breaths that ghost along Sam's back with every exhalation. Dean inhales and holds his breath, running his thumb back and forth along the waistband of Sam's underwear.

Everything stands still for a moment, neither brother breathing. Sam breaks first, doesn't even mean to but before he knows it he's sighing out Dean's name all long and desperate.

Dean groans and tugs, Sam hitching his hips up to help because he's way past playing possum if his boxers are coming off.

Dean pulls his shorts down until the waistband is digging under his butt cheeks. Sam feels the bed lilt to rights again as Dean settles his hand back down by Sam's side.

Dean rocks forward and Sam moans as he feels Dean's cock slot up against the crack of his ass. It feels bigger than Sam can ever imagine his dick being, even if he does have a lot of growing left to do.

And growing is just what his dick is doing, trapped under his belly by Dean's weight, damp spot under it growing by the second as Dean just holds him there, not moving.

Sam knows he's close to coming but he can't move like this. Dean's too much, all of him bearing down on Sam until he feels like he's going to go insane.

Sam would never ask for it, but he's also never found himself bare-assed under Dean's naked dick before so he just fucking goes for it.

"Dean, please..." is all he can manage as he tries to move himself, just get a little more friction, right there...

"Fuck, Sammy, yeah," Dean grunts out, hands running up Sam's sides to spread himself out on top of Sam, hands resting over Sam's as he rolls his hips.

Dean's hands completely cover Sam's, all of him so overwhelming and fucking big.

"Jesus christ, so good," comes out all garbled against Sam's ear as Dean ruts against him. Dean's cock is so hard against Sam, hot and thick and smooth next to his skin.

Sam thinks that Dean's cock would feel like velvet or suede if he touched it, and the thought of that combined with Dean forcing Sam's dick against the bed in time with his own thrusts just pushes Sam over the edge.

"Fuck, Dean, god," Sam doesn't mean to say his name when he comes, but the hot pool of it under his belly is seeping into the sheets right along with Sam's inhibitions.

"Don't stop, Dean..."

Dean doesn't stop at all, if anything he bears down on Sam even harder.

"You fuckin' come, Sammy? Jesus fuck..."

Sam can barely breathe under Dean's weight, Dean's loud grunts reverberating against Sam's back.

"So fuckin' good for me, Sammy, fuck," Dean's head is bent down so his mouth is right against Sam's neck, and Sam can  _feel_  everything he says as much as he can hear it.

"Things you do to me, Sammy, fucking christ," Dean's moving faster now, each hot breath against Sam's neck coming out like a dirty rhythm section backing up every roll of his hips.

"Shit you make me think about, things I wanna do to you..." Dean must be pretty wasted, because the most Sam can usually hope for is a string of curse words with his name buried in there somewhere like a prize in a cereal box.

"Wanna fuck you like this one day, Sammy, when you're older, when you're ready..."

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Sam's dick is back to life and happy to start french-kissing the soaked sheets underneath him.

"Come in your ass, come in your mouth, give you everything, Sammy, fuck."

Sam thinks about it constantly, has ever since he found out that was a  _thing_ , but he's never said it out loud, not even to himself, and hearing Dean say it makes him feel like he got punched in the gut with a fistful of razor wire.

Dean's just murmuring "fuck, fuck, fuck," out against his neck, filthy grunts echoing in Sam's ears as Dean grinds down against him.

It's slicker now, sweat and precome smoothing the way as all of Dean's hard length ruts against him.

Then Dean opens his mouth and licks that tiny spot right behind Sam's ear, goosebump shiver hot spot that's apparently hot-wired to his dick because Sam's coming again before he's even really with the program.

It almost hurts and he's starting to feel a little dizzy from  _hypoxia_ , fancy word he'd learned in his fourth ninth grade bio class of that year.

Sam's not sure if he can't breathe because his brother is twice his size or because he just jizzed himself twice or because Dean just told him he wanted to fuck him or because Sam knows he'll fucking die if Dean takes it back.

He should care a lot more than he does.

"Fucking perfect, Sammy, jesus..."

Sam doesn't know when it happened but Dean's fingers have ground their way down in between his. Dean's fingers, huge and manly and fat and thick just like all the other things about Dean that Sam jacks off to, laced up with his and clenched so tight Sam should be worried about something breaking.

Sam'll set the fucking bone himself as long as Dean doesn't let up.

"Want you all for myself, Sammy, just for me," Dean nips at that fucking spot again and Sam's shaking, or would be if he had a millimeter of personal space.

"No one else gets to have you like this, just me, always me," Dean husks out right behind Sam's ear, rubbing himself off against Sam so fast he can hear it, wet slip slide of two bodies that shouldn't fit together so fucking perfectly.

"Fuckin' mine, Sammy, fuck,  _fuck_ ," Sam barely hears it, absorbs it through his skin along with all the rest of Dean that's rubbing and sweating and shooting all over his back, doesn't move a muscle because he needs to soak it all up before it goes away.

Sam really is falling asleep now, no need to pretend as he draws in stifled breaths that smell like Dean and sex and crappy sheets and the closest thing to contentment Sam can recognize.

Sam doesn't have to pretend to be asleep as Dean bows his head and rests his nose against the nape of Sam's neck.

"So fuckin' sorry, Sammy..."  
  
*  
Title is from a Tom Waits song. :D


End file.
